More than Meets the Eye
by Fragile Dream
Summary: When Gotham's reckoning wages all-out war on the city he deplores, its citizens' perseverance is put to the ultimate test. Among the millions of beleaguered is Anna Ward, an ordinary woman who finds herself in caught up in extraordinary circumstances. Will she be able to stay in the sun or will she become just another casualty of the rising fire? Set exclusively during TDKR.


**Well guys, I'm at it again. The idea for another Bane fic has been swirling around in my noggin for quite a while now. I just can't help myself; I adore the character Tom Hardy brought to life so brilliantly, and I thought this would be a good time to get started now that my first tale is winding down. The primary purpose of this introductory chapter is to test the waters of interest. If it gains a following, I will continue. If not, I'll probably put it on the back burner. I have no plans for this to be anywhere near as long as WFS, but I do promise to exert just as much effort with each and every chapter. Some of you may be familiar with my debut while others may be newcomers to my writing. Whatever your individual case may be, I hope you enjoy yet another of my offerings in our beloved fandom. Please share your feedback with me if you would be so kind, as it will help determine the scope of this new project :)  
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On her way home from the supermarket, one of Gotham's myriad residents was attempting to steel herself for one of the most trying times of the year.

Football season.

The five-month duration from September to February was one that Anna Ward had dreaded since the day she had taken her matrimonial vows. Rick, her husband just short of a year, was a die-hard fanatic of the sport since the cradle thanks in part to his equally fervent father. The Rogues, his cherished home team, were playing the opening game of the season against the Rapid City Monuments, and their number one fan had roped his wife into serving as caterer to him and his buddies for one of their many annual pilgrimages to watch their favorite pastime on her spouse's prized big screen television. Rick was an exceedingly thrifty individual, however he spared no expense when it came to his gridiron obsession. Attire, magazines, trading cards; you name it. If the paraphernalia bore his beloved black and yellow, he would fork over the cash for it. He would have been one of the many spectators in the stands of the eponymous Rogue Stadium that brisk afternoon, but with a mortgage, utilities, car payment, and a host of other financial obligations, their budgets were stretched thin as it was.

Unlike Rick, Anna was decidedly apathetic when it came to athletics. To her, football was nothing more than overpaid men built like bulldozers clobbering each other. And for what? A stupid ball! She found the activity pointless and failed to see its appeal despite her husband's ardent enthusiasm.

It was Sunday, her last day off from her tedious, uninspiring job. For the last two years she had toiled as an administrative assistant for one of Gotham's most successful civil attorneys. Despite her boss's prominence and her above-adequate performance, she was still undercompensated for her labor, even by industry standards. She'd been planning to obtain a paralegal certification with the goal of securing a higher salary, but working full-time as well as frequent mandatory overtime and fulfilling her domestic responsibilities left little time for extracurricular activities, even those that stood to improve her professional status.

Rather than spending the Sabbath relaxing in preparation for the upcoming work week, she was filling the undesirable role of chef to her husband and his posse. As much as she strove to be a dutiful wife, she couldn't help but wish the boys would hold their gatherings elsewhere for a change. Like Rick, most of his friends were married, and she would have welcomed any of their better halves giving her a break from their ceremonial male bonding frenzy every once in a while.

Not having all the required ingredients for the requested repasts on hand, she embarked on an impromptu trip to fetch them. On the menu for that night were nachos, extra-spicy Buffalo wings, and an ample supply of Heineken, the crew's brew of preference. She was hard-pressed to think of a more masculine smorgasbord.

She and Rick had carried on a lengthy courtship. They had dated for three years and been engaged for another three before finally heading down the aisle around Christmas of the previous year. The couple lived in an unassuming townhouse on the Gotham's lower west side. They had purchased the residence earlier that year after spending the beginning of their legal union in a small apartment in a grittier section of town. With two stories and three bedrooms, their abode was more than satisfactory for their spatial needs. Ever the economist, Rick had originally sets his sights on a smaller and thus cheaper piece of real estate, but Anna had lobbied for a roomier property on the grounds they might one day hear the pitter-patter of little feet.

Maybe one day.

That's what she had told both herself and her husband whenever the issue of a child arose. Having lost her own mother at an early age to cancer, she had always dreamed of having a child of her own. Sadly, Rick did not share that particular aspiration. He had informed her of his aversion to starting a family of their own prior to their nuptials. Hailing from a large family himself, she was reasonably mystified by her husband's opposition to parenthood. She would have completely understood his reluctance had he experienced a difficult upbringing, but his parents seemed ideal in every imaginable aspect. They were even still married, which was a rarity in and of itself in modern times. In addition to his devoted parents, he was accompanied by two older brothers and a sister. He was the baby of the family and as such doted on accordingly. All in all his childhood appeared to have been picturesque. The only explanation she could muster was that, although he was over thirty, he had not yet grown up enough to be a father. Naturally, the news was disappointing, but ultimately she decided to go ahead with the wedding for one simple reason: She loved him in spite of his conflicting stance on fatherhood. Nevertheless, she had sustained the hope that he might one day change his mind. Of course she wasn't holding her breath for that to happen.

Although Rick may have displayed a certain degree of juvenility in his downtime, he was no slouch when it came to bringing home the bread. Since she had known him, he had been steadily employed as a construction worker for Coleman United, a subsidiary of Daggett Industries, one of the biggest corporations in Gotham. Having been born into a predominantly blue-collar family, his career choice made sense in conjunction with the fact that he was not an enthusiast of institutional education.

With her brief bout of solitude nearly at an end, she rounded the final corner of her journey in her modest vehicle. Determined to make the best of the evening, she endeavored to banish her negative attitude. After parking, popping the trunk, and grabbing hold of every bag she could, she headed into her home with the necessary provisions for the feast in tow. As she approached the entrance, she discovered that the party was already in full swing via the unmistakable sounds of Led Zeppelin from inside. Hardly expecting to be met at the door and assisted by one of the less than chivalrous bunch, she set one handful of merchandise on the cement stoop in order to accommodate opening the doors.

"There she is!" Rick greeted her jovially, presumably in anticipation of the buffet she was soon to provide.

Like all the others, he was decked out in his Rogues jersey, which he swore was lucky because they'd never lost a game when he wore it.

"The gang's all here, I see," she replied with a perfunctory smile as she made her way to the kitchen and deposited her haul on the kitchen table.

It was not until after she'd vacated the living room that the guests offered their overdue salutations. Among the usual suspects was Doug Stanton, Rick's best friend since high school and a satellite installer for a communications company. Also in attendance were Tony DeLuca, one of Rick's work colleagues, and Pete Dempsey, a security guard at a pharmaceutical company who lived several houses down the street. Rounding out the ranks was Greg Foster, an advertising executive and the only member of the clique with a college degree. Regrettably, his sheepskin was not the only characteristic that distinguished him from his chosen peers.

A few years before Anna and Rick tied the knot, Greg had made a pass at her. In all honesty, she found him attractive enough, but she been head over heels in love with her then-boyfriend. Not wanting to cause a rift in a friendship that obviously meant a lot to him, she never told Rick about the awkward incident. Moreover, as fond as Rick was of Greg and as long as the two had known one another, she harbored the fear that she may not be believed. Or worse, that Greg would falsely accuse her of having amorous intentions towards him in retaliation. With nothing whatsoever to be gained from the divulgence, she decided to keep her mouth shut. Unfortunately, her pursuer was not easily deterred and continued to make unwanted advances even after her marriage, a ceremony he himself had witnessed. Fed up with his immoral behavior, she had put her foot down three months before and threatened to expose his indecent proposals to Rick if he ever mentioned the subject again. Seeing as how he hadn't set foot near her since, she assumed he had finally gotten the point.

Gregarious by nature, Rick had always gained friends easily wherever he went. Anna, on the other hand, could count her friends on one hand. Most of them she'd known from high school but had drifted away from them over the years. Employed at an office full of male lawyers, many of whom were twice her age, she had no opportunities for companionship at work. Some of Rick's cronies had wives, but she'd never really felt a connection with any of them.

It would have been nice of Rick to help her unpack the groceries, but knowing he was not about to tear himself away from his pregame revelry, she tackled the task on her own. While placing the various staples in their proper locations, she reflected on her life as she often did. She hadn't exactly set the world on fire, but all in all she was content. She had a roof over her head, food to eat, a warm bed to sleep in, and even a little money in the bank. Things could have been worse.

When the blaring music came to a halt, she knew it was almost game time. Taking her cue, she prepared the appetizer while simultaneously prepping the wings. With her hands in cellophane gloves dripping with Tabasco sauce, she received an untimely request.

"Hey baby, can you bring us another round?"

She couldn't help emitting a heavy sigh.

"Be right there."

After flicking the gloves off and depositing them in the garbage can, she strode over to the fridge, plucked five bottles from the middle shelf, and went to distribute her quarry. While passing out the beers, her eyes unintentionally met those of Greg, who was seated on the recliner at the opposite side of the room. His unabashed staring went undetected by Rick, who was totally oblivious to his friend's infatuation with his bride. Her husband's often indifferent attitude towards her made Anna wonder if he would even care about Greg's betrayal if he knew. Once she was finished playing bartender, she retreated back to the kitchen and resumed her culinary chores.

Much as she loved Rick, even she could admit that the sparks between them had faded in recent months. They were still newlyweds, but the honeymoon was over. Though that reality was not all that shocking—they'd been together for six years and lived together for five—it was demoralizing. She knew he loved her, but she worried he was no longer attracted to her. She figured she was partially to blame, as she wasn't as vanity-conscious as she had been when they had first started dating. Nearing the big 3-0, her clothing became more casual, her makeup became less dramatic, and her hairstyles had simplified in favor of convenience. She wouldn't go as far as to say she had let herself go, but she certainly did not primp as much as she used to. She'd openly observed her negligence in Rick's presence more than once and each time had been met with reassurance. Still, she could not prevent herself from doubting his sincerity and made it her mission to exercise more effort on her appearance in the future.

Their sex life was healthy yet left something to be desired. Their intimate encounters had become noticeably routine as of late, almost mechanical in execution. The drill was simple; if Rick wanted sex, Anna gave it to him, regardless of whether she felt the same or not. Most times she wanted it, but there were times she had simply not been in the mood. Foreplay was a thing of the past, romance nothing more than a pipe dream. She knew passions often cooled with time, but she didn't expect theirs to wane so quickly after the wedding. Yet even in that dark cloud she found a silver lining; now that the problem had been recognized, it could be remedied. And she was determined to do just that.

The first step in her plan to reignite the flame was a trip to Victoria's Secret, a retail establishment synonymous with sex appeal. There she had found a nearly scandalous negligee she hoped would drive her man wild with lust. Whether the seduction would take place that night depended solely on the outcome of the game. The Rogues' victory would put Rick in a good mood; their loss would cause him to be downright sullen and resultantly uninterested in hanky-panky.

When the timer buzzed signaling that the nachos were done, Anna pulled them from the oven and garnished them with sour cream, diced tomatoes, and Cayenne peppers. Once they sufficiently cooled she delivered the platter along with dishes and napkins. To cut down on her cleanup, she opted for paper plates instead of ceramic. By the time she served the first course, the chatter had markedly diminished, indicating that the game was almost about to begin.

"Ah, grub's just in time!" Rick announced as she set the tray on the coffee table and handed out utensils.

The men dug into the food like a pack of wolves would a fresh carcass.

"These look delicious," her husband commended.

"I'll put the wings on in a minute."

"Thanks, baby. And uh, can we get a few more beers?"

"Coming right up."

She then went to retrieve the alcohol.

"Ain't my wife something, guys?" Rick asked as she made her way around the living room, which at that time resembled more of a man cave.

With some of their mouths already stuffed, the group nodded and grunted in agreement.

"You're a lucky man," Greg complimented with his gaze fixed on Anna and raised his drink.

Ignoring the remark that seemed innocent to everyone but her, Anna shot its source a pointed look and returned to the kitchen. Flustered, she put the wings in the oven and purposefully slammed the door in imagination that Greg's head was wedged between it.

Seating herself at the table, she tried to downplay her admirer's words, convince herself they stemmed purely from goodwill. Ultimately her persuasive efforts were to no avail. All too aware of Greg's fixation on her, she could not construe his comment as one of innocuousness, especially in consideration of how persistent he had been in the past. In essence he was proclaiming his jealousy as subtly as possible. In the very least, she was grateful he hadn't elaborated on his statement.

She thought she had resolved the issue once and for all, maybe that he'd even lost interest in her at long last. Apparently she was wrong. She was starting to lose hope he would ever forget about her and move on with someone else. In the four years of knowing him she'd never once seen him with a woman. She was utterly clueless as to why, out of all the available women in Gotham, he was hankering after the one married to a friend of his. And her curiosity did not end there. She didn't consider herself a great beauty and doubted anyone else did either. On her best day she deemed her looks average; on her worst substandard. Why was he so enamored with her?

As she pondered that very question, she heard the men hooting and hollering at the TV just seconds after the Pledge of Allegiance was performed. So easily amused were men, she inwardly marveled.

"Whoa!" Tony exclaimed loudly.

"No fucking way!" followed up Pete.

Judging from those reactions, it didn't seem like the Rogues were off to a good start. Ordinarily she couldn't have cared less about the rowdy spectacle, but that night was an exception; that night she was very much invested in the game's results. Mentally blocking out the noise they were making, she continued to contemplate how she should handle her dilemma.

After years of sweeping Greg's inappropriate conduct under the rug, she was now reaching her wits' end. She hated keeping the secret, particularly because it would be so incredibly damning should it be revealed by anyone other than her. Rick would regard it as a lie rather than simply an omission. Furthermore, her failure to immediately disclose the incidences would cast her in a negative light, one of suspicion and mistrust. He might even deem her guilty by way of exclusion.

"Baby, you gotta see this!" Rick shouted excitedly.

Well, she didn't care **that** much about the game.

For the first time in a long time, she seriously contemplated coming clean about the whole thing. After all, if their roles were reversed, she would want to know the truth no matter what.

"Anna, get in here quick!" he reiterated.

As her train of thought was again derailed, she rolled her eyes in annoyance. When would he get it through his thick skull that she didn't give two shits about football?! Exasperated, she burst through the door to see what he was squawking about.

"What?!"

"Look, look!" Rick frantically pointed to the screen.

Anna did, and she could hardly believe what she saw. The entire stadium had completely collapsed. In response, the commentators ditched their scripts and speculated on the cause of the disintegration. The multitudes of previously cheering fans gasped and screamed in horror as the coliseum was reduced to a gaping hole in the earth before their very eyes.

"Could it be an earthquake?" Doug asked.

"Since when are there earthquakes on the east coast?" Greg countered.

"No way, it's gotta be terrorists," Tony insisted.

"Shh!" Rick hushed the peanut gallery.

As the analysts began to offer possible explanations for the catastrophe, more pandemonium ensued as onlookers in various sections of the arena erupted in unadulterated panic. Initially the outbursts were attributed to the sheer shock the disaster, but as the event unfolded live, that notion was swiftly laid to rest by the real reason for the disturbances. The expansive complex was under siege by a brigade of men brandishing automatic weapons. The gang was small in size in comparison to the audience, but they were armed to the teeth, which gave them a distinct advantage even though they were vastly outnumbered. The invaders' presence was at first confined to the bleachers, but that did not last long.

When the massive crowd was adequately pacified, an assembly of men emerged from the dugout onto the remnants of the field. But they didn't run or even walk at a brisk pace; instead they strolled as if they really did have all the time in the world. The one in front seized a microphone from a referee who appeared dead and addressed the thousands of petrified bystanders encircling the ruins. And in doing so, he made his mark on the world.

The man, ostensibly the ringleader of the attack, was fully bald, wore a brown, fleece-trimmed overcoat, and spoke with a peculiar accent Anna was unable to identify. But those aspects of his appearance were not what made him stand out. They were secondary to his most defining feature; the strange mask he wore on his face. She had never seen anything quite like it. At first she thought it might be some type of respirator in anticipation of a gas attack, but that theory was abandoned when she realized the faces of his accomplices were unadorned.  
The masked man began by instructing the citizens of Gotham to take control of their city. During a prolonged pause in his speech, the usurper took a moment to behold the throngs of cowed people surrounding him, human beings he and his cohorts had terrified with their vicious show of force.

He then directed their attention to a large, spherical contraption that looked to be electronic that was ushered onto what was left of the turf. Also brought onto the shambles was a middle-aged man who, bound and held at gunpoint, seemed to be a hostage of the assailants. He was asked a series of questions by the masked man, who provided the headset he had pilfered whenever his captive answered. The man introduced himself as Leonid Pavel, a doctor of nuclear physics. When the menacing interrogator asked what the mysterious device was, the scientist claimed it was a bomb. When asked who was capable of disarming it, Pavel said only he himself was. Mere seconds following the reply, the masked man twisted the doctor's neck like a grape, eliciting a wave of blood-curdling shrieks from the eyewitnesses of the carnage. The assassin then proceeded to lay down the law for the people of Gotham, declaring the city on lockdown and warning that the bomb would be detonated at the first sign of any escape attempts or external interference.

Rick and his associates exploded in gasps of shock and disbelief as the fiend. Anna, however, remained quiet as a mouse.


End file.
